Morning Person
by Emily Destler
Summary: Enjolras is a very scheduled, very disciplined, very much a not-forgetful person. Except when he is. Grantaire is there to help.


Enjolras woke up next to a drunk.

And he smiled.

He sat upright in bed, and, almost immediately, necessary information for the day started reeling through his mind, as it always does the second he's regained consciousness. Today is the 23rd of March, a Tuesday. This reminder was directly followed by the beginning of his inner monologue, going over today's schedule: I'll need to arrive at Fair Grounds Coffee on 38th at approximately 8:45 to meet Combeferre and discuss topics for tonight's meeting at the Musain. That should last until 10:00 at the latest.

It was seven in the morning now. Actually, Enjolras knew this before he even bothered to look at the clock on Grantaire's nightstand. He knew because his body was an alarm clock that woke up every morning at the exact same time. He is a naturally very busy person, and this trait seems to even creep into his brain during sleep, corrupting his resting periods, acting like a compulsion. Like he was some sort of zombie-slave, forced to bend to the will of his conscious brain's strict agenda. At least that's what Grantaire told him one clumsy morning when he fell out his side of the bed and landed solidly onto their floor.

Next is the Political Science seminar from 10:30 to noon.

So as not to wake up his boyfriend, he carefully snuck out of bed replaced the covers over his spot.

After that a study session at the campus library with Jehan for the upcoming Research Methods and Statistics exam, 12:30 to 1:00.

Enjolras ran a hand through his gold locks and leaned over to press a light kiss to the sleeping Grantaire's forehead.

1:30 to 3:00 is strictly reserved for time to finish up the paper on socioeconomic development for Professor Stepek, due next week.

It was a completely normal morning —you could bet the blonde was good for determined decisions he had preplanned for himself the night before. He wore his favorite red button-up, black jeans and tie, and an old, dark overcoat to keep the winter air away from his skin when he got an early start for today's meeting with Les Amis. He also added his grey beanie, which he situated within his golden hair to keep his ears and head warm, and the scarf R got him for his birthday last year, the one with the three colors of the French flag. It had meant to be a little joke-gift on Grantaire's part, but that didn't stop the fearless leader from loving the article of clothing dearly.

Enjolras packed his phone and wallet in the coat pocket and would have gone right out out of the door—

—Had he only known where the in the hell his car keys were. Enjolras, for the life of him, could not figure out where he misplaced them! He must have searched everywhere by now, underneath their couch, across the coffee table, he even checked back in their bedroom to see if the keys had miraculously ended up upon his dresser, even though he knew he would have seen them as he got dressed fifteen minutes ago.

It was things like these that could drive him completely crazy! No pun intended.

And he would have to live with the damper that this mishap would put on today's tight schedule. He would have to run all around the city in the cold just to arrive on time to the meeting this afternoon, he could already foresee it.

Well, damn.

Enjolras leaned against the kitchen counter and rubbed his eyes tiredly, sulking in silence. There just wasn't any time for things like this. He didn't know what he would do if he still couldn't find the necessary resources for today's important business meetings. He might even have to reschedule, and at such a ridiculous inconvenience as losing his car keys.

He groaned and whipped out his phone to call Combeferre and see if he could notify everyone that the meeting is going to be taking place at a later time this afternoon.

That is until he heard a door open and a familiar voice, still groggy with sleep, call out to him:

"On the counter, by the coffeemaker."

Enjolras' eyebrows furrowed and he whipped his head next the stove, where the coffeemaker remained untouched, pre-set to start brewing in less than two hours from now.

And his car keys sat right by the pot.

Enjolras cursed himself quietly and went to scoop up the keys. He heard shuffling behind him and turned to face his boyfriends' sleepy yet fond expression.

"Don't worry, Enj. I promise you won't be late." Said Grantaire, and he smiled reassuringly, as if he could read the entire morning just from his face. Or, rather, like he didn't even need to. He just knew him well enough to know.

Enjolras reached out and kissed him softly, a silent, but very grateful thank you. "Good morning."

"Good morning," Grantaire replied evenly, and grinned his goofy grin while he adjusted the beanie on his boyfriends' head. He knew Enjolras was in a huge rush. He wore a smug face and nodded to the door, patting his hip by way of prompt. "Get outta here, stud."

Enjolras raced past him but stopped at the doorway. Before leaving, he smiled in the way that reached his eyes.  
"I love you."

Grantaire went ahead and reached to press the button that would start the coffee machine two hours earlier and looked back with a broad smirk."I love you more."

Then the door flew shut, and Enjolras was sent on his way to another crazy day, but this time with a smile on his face and love in his heart.

Still in his worn t-shirt and boxers, Grantaire took a sip of his delicious coffee and waited for the love of his life to come home. He had to focus on the drink in his hand to keep the chuckle from rising from his throat.

Enjolras phone lay abandoned on the bare countertop.


End file.
